Foxpaw's Tale
by The Awesomeness of Moosey
Summary: This is a NarutoWarriors Crossover. As Foxpaw grows older, he learns more and more about the great battle that happened years ago. What he doesn't know is that it has everything to do with him. 4th Chapter added!
1. Allegiances

**This is a Naruto/Warriors Fanfic Crossover. And now, unlike some other crossovers where people turn into cats, I just made it so they are cats, but have the same personalities and such. **

**My Co-author is one of the Wise Crack Idiots, Alex. We are splitting the credit 50/50. And remember to check out some of her stories too!**

L E A F C L A N

Leader: Tsunamistar (Tsunada)- light gray (with darker flecks) she-cat with stormy  
blue eyes; succeeded Brownstar as leader

Deputy: Loyalheart (Shizune)- golden long-furred she-cat with unusually long claws

Medicine Cat: Fawnspots (Nara Shikaku)—tabby brown tom with moss-green eyes

Warriors and Apprentices:

Blackmask (Kakashi)- handsome swift white tom with a black muzzle, black  
underbelly, paws, tail-tip, ears, and scarred left eye; rumored as a legendary  
fighter

-Foxpaw, Rosepaw, Nightpaw

Eveningsun (Kurenai)- cream-colored she-cat with amber eyes

-Fangpaw, Sunpaw, Bugpaw

Mighteye (Guy)- black-gray tom with green eyes; cheery, competitive, and a bit  
too confident in his own prowess

-Rockpaw, Dragonpaw, Whitepaw

Smokeheart (Asuma)- small gray and black-spotted tom with a raspy voice

-Largepaw, Mountainpaw, Cleverpaw

Scarface (Iruka)- swift tortoiseshell tom with a scarred muzzle

Moontree (Mizuki)- large white tabby tom with darker stripes

Flowernose (Inuzuka Hana; Kiba's sister)- pale white she-cat with  
distinctive red smudges on her cheeks; brown eyes

Palefur (Hyuuga Hiashi)—muscular short-furred white tom with blue eyes;  
Sunpaw, Whitepaw and Firekit's father

Russeteye (Ebisu)—black-and-white tom with amber eyes

Greentail (Mitarashi Anko)—sleek-furred brown tabby she-cat with bright  
green eyes; hyperactive, serious, and easy-going

Apprentices:

Foxpaw (Naruto)- bright flame-orange tom with warm green eyes

Rosepaw (Sakura)- white with ginger splotches she-cat and green eyes

Nightpaw (Sasuke)- raven-black tabby tom with dark, ice-blue eyes

Fangpaw (Kiba)- enthusiastic mottled tabby tom with abnormally long fangs

Sunpaw (Hinata)- black-and-white tom with a long tail; quiet and anti-social

Bugpaw (Shino)- calm white-furred tom with pale opaque eyes

Rockpaw (Lee)- cheerful black tom with brown eyes; idolizes teamwork, the  
warrior code, and his mentor

Dragonpaw (Tenten)- messy-furred brown she-cat with purple eyes

Whitepaw (Neji)- shy, light ginger, almost sand-colored she-cat with pale opaque eyes

Largepaw (Choji)- heavyset thick-furred gray tom with black eyes

Mountainpaw (Ino)- shrewd, spunky tortoiseshell she-cat with small ears; shares  
a bitter rivalry with Rosepaw

Cleverpaw (Shikamaru)- intelligent brown tabby tom with green eyes

Queens:

Talonwing (Inuzuka Tsume; Fangpaw and Hana's mom)—black she-cat with a  
white patch on her forehead and distinctive red smudges on her cheeks  
Moonflower (Uzuki Yugao)—pretty silver she-cat with gray eyes; her mate,  
Windscruff(Gekko Hayate), was killed in one of the many wars during  
Brownstar's reign

Elders:

Bristlepelt (Homura Mitokado)—fierce-tempered white she-cat with dark  
eyes and a bushy tail

Kits:

Eagerkit (Konohamaru)- dappled tom with unblinking yellow eyes

Redkit (Moegi)- gentle pale-furred she-cat

Sleepykit (Udon)- light silver tabby with a running nose and constant habit of  
dozing off

Firekit (Hyuuga Hanabi)- exotic creamy-tan she-cat with brown paws

Short Explanation:

When a kit is a season old, one of the warriors, in this case Scarface starts teaching them minor rules about how to be a warrior. When they are seven moons old, they are separated into teams, which is lead by one mentor. There are three cats in each team. The mentor gives them tasks and assignments, missions, obstacles, and trains them in the way of a warrior. Sometimes, the different teams fight against each other in tournaments. When they are ready, they receive their warrior name. The leader, (basically the Hokage) leads the clan.

**Special thanks goes to Alex, who made the Allegiances a WHOLE lot better!**

**-Moosey**


	2. Believe it!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors, or Naruto, and some of the lines in this story are repeated from Naruto. The names of the cats are mine though. –Huggles Foxkit-**

Foxkit trotted out of the nursery, his tail lashing out. He stretched his limbs and then paused as Rosekit padded out of the nursery after him.

His heart lifted at the sight of her. "Hey, Rosekit."

Rosekit ignored him.

Foxkit pushed his face into hers. "Rosekit!"

"What?" She snapped.

Foxkit stepped back. "I-I, uh, good morning!"

Rosekit rolled her eyes. "Go away, Foxkit. Unless you know where Nightkit is, I don't want anything to do with you."

Foxkit groaned. _How come every cat favored Nightkit over him? He never even says anything!_

"Oh, there he is." Rosekit said, partly to herself. "Hey, Nightkit! Over here!"

Nightkit glanced over at them, and then turned his back to them.

Rosekit cocked her head to the side, then giggled. "He must be shy."

Foxkit muttered a curse under his breath.

"I hope you don't use those that type of language all the time." A deep voice above them said.

Foxkit glanced up, and leapt back, sputtering, "I-I…no I don't. Of course not, Scarface. Never!"

Scarface gave him a long look and them spoke to them both in turn, "Are you two ready to be apprentices?"

"Yes, Scarface!" Foxkit nodded eagerly. "I've trained long and hard these past two moons!"

"Really?" Scarface said, amused. "Then how come you failed the assessment yesterday?"

Foxkit's face turned to bitter sadness, and embarrassment.

"It's okay." Scarface said, cheerfully. "As long as you pay better attention to your new mentor from now on, you'll make it through."

Foxkit glanced up, eyes shining. "I have to determination to be a warrior. Believe it!"

Rosekit shook her head and sighed at his overused saying.

Mountainkit overheard their conversation and walked over. "Do we get to choose whose groups we're in, Scarface?"

Scarface shook his head, "I'm afraid not."

Mountainkit glared at Rosekit. "I just _know_ that I'm going to be with Nightkit."

Rosekit scowled. "Nightkit would never be in the same group as you."

Foxkit hung his head. _They've never fought over me, before! It's always Nightkit._

Tsunamistar crossed the clearing, her tail sweeping behind her. She leapt up on the great rock and shook some rain from her pelt. "It's time to for some kits to be made apprentices, all the clan gather here."

The cats slowly emerged from their dens.

"Nightkit, Foxkit, Mountainkit, Fangkit, Sunkit, Rosekit, Bugkit, Rockit, Whitekit, Dragonkit, Cleverkit, and Largekit, come forward."

Foxkit bounded forward, his whisker twitching.

Mountainkit and Rosekit were silently fighting over who would be sitting next to Nightkit.

Nightkit padded slowly forward, almost as slowly as Cleverkit, who seemed to be taking his time.

Tsunamistar spoke loudly and clearly.

"The cats to be mentored by Blackmask are the following,"

Foxkit's eyes were wide, and for once he was listening.

"Rosepaw…"

"…Foxpaw."

Foxpaw jumped to his feet. "Yes!!!" Rosepaw hung her head in shame.

"….And Nightpaw."

Rosepaw lifted her head, and squeaked excitedly. Foxpaw's tail drooped. _I have to be with Nightkit? Is this some kind of joke?_

"Do I have to be with Nightpaw?" Foxpaw shouted openly.

"Yes." Tsunamistar sighed

"Fox-dung!" Foxpaw spat furiously, before reluctantly joining Blackmask at the edge of the crowd.

"The other groups," Tsunamistar continued, as if nothing had happened. "will be as followed…"

Foxpaw barely listened as she went on, because he was too busy glaring at Nightpaw.

Soon the crowd of cats broke up. "Well then." Blackmask said. "First, tell me what interests you."

"I'm Foxpaw!" Foxpaw exclaimed. "And I'm going to be the next leader, believe it!"

"Alright, then." Blackmask sighed.

"I'm Rosepaw." Rosepaw said nervously. "And I like a certain somone..." She looked pointedly at Nightpaw.

_All the she-cats these days are always only thinking of toms, _Blackmask sighed to himself.

They all stared at Nightpaw.

"I'm Nightpaw," Nightpaw said, his voice deep and cold. "And I wish to train as a warrior, so that I can one day kill a cat."

They all continued staring at Nightpaw, silently.

_He's so Cool! _Rosepaw thought, her eyes wide.

_I hope I'm not the cat he wants to kill. _Foxpaw thought, distraught.

_That's just what I expected. _Blackmask thought.

"I guess we should begin training then." Blackmask said.

Foxpaw smiled, and shouted, _"YES_!_"_


	3. Tsunamistar's Disturbance

Chapter 2: Tsunamistar's Disturbance

Blackmask waited until the ceremony had ended. The other newly named  
apprentices pressed around each other with hums of excitement, calling to  
their mentor and friends. As Tsunamistar drew the meeting to a close he  
beckoned Foxpaw, Rosepaw and Nightpaw over with a flick of his black-tipped  
tail. Foxpaw bounced over to him his green eyes alight with excitement.  
Rosepaw threw him a disbelieving look and followed more sedately, as if  
proving she could behave beyond her years. The older warrior felt his whiskers  
twitch in amusement, however, unconvinced by the ginger she-cat's twitching  
ear and nervous fear-scent.

Following lastly was Nightpaw. His tabby fur rippled, and he made an effort  
to stay calm. Padding over to greet his new partners and mentor, Blackmask saw  
neither excitement nor anxiety in those listless eyes, but instead steely  
determination that was sheltering nurtured rage.

_What a warrior he'll make!_ he beamed inwardly, turning to face his  
apprentices. Foxpaw's consistent chattering had brought him out his reverie.

"...and I heard the Gathering boasts the greatest of warriors, and  
Fourtrees!" Foxpaw lifted his head, a dreamy look flitting across his face.  
"You'll see, we'll be warriors faster than you can say 'mouse.'  
_Believe it!_ Can't wait, huh?"

Rosepaw fixed him with bored eyes. "_I_ can't wait to shove a  
squirrel up Mountainpaw's—"

"Blackmask!" a familiar voice called. Scarface was bounding around  
Flowernose, stumbling through the over-sweep of cats braking up from the  
meeting. "A word, if I may?"

"Of course." Blackmask dipped his head and began to move away when he  
noticed Scarface fidget. "Actually, I meant with Foxpaw..."

Foxpaw's tail shot up in delight. Without waiting for his mentor's  
approval he skidded away from Rosepaw and Nightpaw, glad to be rid of the  
ogling look not only Rosepaw, but Mountainpaw too, was making from across the  
clearing. Her pale eyes flared with disappointment and jealousy; so caught up  
the tortoiseshell was she nearly stumbled over as Largepaw gave her an  
affectionate butt in the shoulder.

_What's there to be jealous about Nightpaw, anyway?_ Foxpaw thought and  
gritted his teeth, not hesitating in throwing a sneering look over his  
shoulder at Nightpaw. Nightpaw curled his lips but made no comment.

Scarface gave his chest fur an self-conscious lick. "If you will—this  
will only take a second—"

On heavily scarred paws he limped into the shadow of a holly bush ringing the  
sun-baked clearing. Giving himself a shake, Foxpaw brightly followed after his  
caretaker. Scarface had always been a stern warrior, but one that he was  
remarkably fond of; loyal, true-hearted, and a skilled hunter, there was  
nothing but envy and affection the ginger tom had for his peer, who he had  
always envisioned as a father-figure. Which brought him to other thoughts as  
well: why hadn't he had a father to teach him the warrior code, or a  
mothering queen in the nursery?

"Are you listening to me?" Scarface's meow sounded loudly in Foxpaw's  
ear, and he jumped, shuffling his paws guiltily in the dirt.

"Now that I have your attention," Scarface growled, sounding unusually  
stern, "I want to make it _purr_fectly clear that I do not want you  
misbehaving on your very first day as an apprentice."

Foxpaw blinked at him innocently and grinned. "Me? The perfect little kit?  
I don't know what you—"

"—mean?" Scarface shook his head impatiently. "Don't give me that  
fish-and-mouse story. Of all cats, Foxpaw. . . _Honestly_. You ate almost  
all of Fawnspot's herb stores—"

"I was hungry," Foxpaw mewed, though his beaming face lessened.

"You spilled mouse-bile in Bristlepelt's bedding—"

"—I told you; she tripped me on purpose—"

"You yowled _"Badger!"_ and threw yourself on Greentail as she was  
coming back from a patrol—"

"—the sun was in my eyes; I couldn't see the ground for—"

"—constantly disobeying warriors, ignoring directions and falling. . .asleep."

Scarface glanced down the length of his nose. In a ginger heap lay Foxpaw,  
his flanks rising in an undisturbed doze at Scarface's paws. The older  
warrior breathed loudly, half torn between amusement and exasperation. He  
poked the apprentice in the ribs and hissed. "Foxpaw, you great lump, get up  
for StarClan's sake!"

Foxpaw cracked open a green eye lazily. "Done yet? I thought so. You're  
holding up Blackmask and the guys, you know."

Batting Foxpaw affectionately with a dabbled paw he grunted, "Oh, you  
useless fur ball, be away with you!" With a half-hearted growl he chased  
Foxpaw away; the ginger tom paused, calling warmly over his shoulder as  
he bounded, "See you later, Scarface!"

Excitement pulsing through his limbs Foxpaw found his paws carrying him the  
rest of the way across the clearing. Nightpaw and Rosepaw where lounging  
around in a bored way while Blackmask studied the overcast sky.

"Rained all of yesterday," Foxpaw heard him mutter. "It'll disguise  
our scents and the preys'. . . Oh, you're back." He nodded curtly to his  
apprentice. "Excellent. Now we can resume our lessons."

"What are we doing today, anyway?" Rosepaw meowed curiously from behind.

Blackmask shrugged. "Hunting; a tour of the territory. It depends on how  
much time we have and what the other mentors are doing." He lifted his  
muzzle skyward, indicating with his tail that they should also. "Look:  
it's getting close to sunhigh now."

Indeed, Foxpaw could already see the sun rising above them like a luminescent  
bird egg, glaring away the mist from the storm that previous night before.

Nightpaw remained as silent as ever, swallowing the last of his (what Foxpaw  
assumed) nerves. All three kits fell silent, looking beseechingly at their  
mentor.

Suddenly, Rosepaw's pelt brushed his; she had just crept up next to him,  
gloating over some personal gain. "Look," she whispered in his ear,  
"Smokeheart has his apprentices cleaning out the elder's den."

Foxpaw glanced at the fallen log that ringed around the enclosed fern  
clearing where the medicine cat worked; sure enough, he could see a grumpy  
Mountainpaw skulk toward the Clan's single elder, a wad of moss clamped  
between her teeth. Largepaw was trudging after her briskly, Smokeheart  
overseeing their work close by; the flame-orange kit held back a mrrow of  
laughter when he spotted Cleverpaw sleeping on his moss in a patch of  
sunlight.

Rosepaw smirked. "Excellent," she hissed, and flexed her claws into the  
loose soil. Hearts threatened to steal over her eyes as she stole a look at  
Nightpaw. "He's all mine."

Again Foxpaw felt his tail begin to bristle indignantly. _Why_ him?  
_Why is it never me?_

"The lot of you," Blackmask meowed unexpectedly in his usual toneless  
command, "follow me and keep up. I know the queens have been stressing over  
fitness and exercise in preparation for your ceremony. I half-hope kittens can  
at least manage a little trot through the woods, and I expect total  
obedience." Waving a bottlebrush tail, he rounded and took off through the  
heather.

Nightpaw made a running start after him, leaving Rosepaw and Foxpaw  
dumbstruck, behind. The ginger-and-white she-cat threw him a scathing look and  
charged off. Foxpaw remained, gritting his teeth and swallowing a snarl.  
Determination flooded through his paws, and he took off full-pelt into the  
crisp leaf-fall air. Did Blackmask always take off without warning?

He had never been outside the camp walls into the wild. Lurid, vivid  
prey-scents wafted up all around him as he sprang through the undergrowth  
after Rosepaw's disappearing hindquarters. His orange paws kicked up a spray  
of pine needles and fallen leaves; his sudden annoyance hazed over with  
carefree glee. With a sudden burst of speed Foxpaw willed himself forward,  
swiftly overtaking Rosepaw. The two cats struggled after Blackmask, though  
Foxpaw could now see Nightpaw following their mentor's scent trail toward  
what was unmistakably the ravine outside their camp.

Black tabby and short ginger fur met neck-for-neck as they struggled up the  
rocky hillside.

"Out of the way!" hissed Nightpaw, and he stuck out a forepaw to trip  
him.

Foxpaw stumbled and skidded downward, using Tsunamistar's choicest swear  
words as he tore a claw on jutting rock. Not wanting to be outdone he began to  
climb again. When he reached the top, to his disappointment and shock,  
Nightpaw and Rosepaw were already waiting, panting, but looking extremely  
pleased. Blackmask was giving himself a brief wash.

"Oh, you're back," the senior warrior greeted Foxpaw as he had done  
earlier. "If you look down there, you can see our camp is very well  
protected; a clearing lined with bracken and bramble, trodden with many  
generations of paw prints. Birds of prey don't normally attack—"

"Look, look how pretty everything is!" mewed Rosepaw breathlessly,  
lashing her tail. Her head stuck out over the edge of a large rock down the  
ravine face, peering into the dense spruce and oak trees. For a moment Foxpaw  
had the distinct impression that Nightpaw wanted nothing more than to push her  
down the cliff, which he quite agreed with whole-heartedly. Rosepaw's loud  
shrill made his head ring painfully.

"It's covered in frost," Rosepaw went on, unbothered by that she had  
interrupted Blackmask.

Blackmask coughed to regain his audience's attention as the three  
apprentices peered over the edge (even Nightpaw). "A frost after a storm  
means the weather has become colder, very befitting for leaf-fall. That means  
that the prey'll be spending its last few weeks hunting down nuts and  
berries before retreating to their burrows for the remainder of leaf-bare."

"Hunting. . .burrows. . .got it," Foxpaw muttered in an undertone,  
listening to the wind rustle Rosepaw's kitten-soft fur.

Blackmask sighed, whisking his tail over their faces as he turned away in the  
direction of their expanse of territory. "When you're done sight-seeing,  
we really do have a lot of ground to cover."

Rosepaw flushed beneath her fur and hung her head back, ears burning  
guiltily. Foxpaw took a final glance at the frost-capped trees and turned to  
face his mentor. The old warrior waved his tail and took off through the  
undergrowth. This time they were ready; the three apprentices shot after their  
mentor, Nightpaw once again taking the lead.

"So where—are—we heading?" the dark tabby panted after Blackmask.

The black-and-white tom didn't slow his pace as he answered almost  
cheerfully, "The Great Sycamore. Keep up!"

He sped ahead through the trees, clearing a toppled log with one easy leap.  
Nightpaw slowed his pace and launched himself on top, scrabbling for a hold on  
the rotten trunk. He stood on top, chin raised with pride and confidence,  
before disappearing over the other side. Foxpaw snorted.

"Show-off," he growled, flattening his ginger fur forcefully.

"What was that?" Rosepaw mewed tartly, flattening her ears.

"Er, nothing... Believe it?" he offered in a feeble attempt of lying.  
Rosepaw spat in disgust before making a well-practiced leap into the air;  
Foxpaw did a double-take, surprised. _Since when was she any good at jumping?_

Foxpaw shook his brimming head and clawed over the log. His height over the  
cats below him and the ground, however stunted, gave the apprentice a feeling  
of elation. He smiled, allowing the wind to just touch his fur and whistle  
softly, before he sprang back onto the grass under pad. Blackmask was sitting  
in a clearing sheltered by two holly bushes, his jaws splitting into a wide  
yawn. Nightpaw plopped next to him with a proud lift of his dark muzzle,  
curling his tail around his paws.

Brushing past tussocks of sparse and grass, Foxpaw escorted Rosepaw under the  
winding branches of an ancient sycamore. Blackmask had risen, and was now  
sniffing along the roots. Nuts and berries littered the ground.

"This place," he announced, "is always a favorable hunting spot, as  
nuts fall from this season to the next and can tempt prey out of their  
burrows. Follow me, now, we're heading for Snakerocks next."

He led the apprentices a short way's distance from the old tree to a  
jumbled pile of rocks that rose ominously from the ground.

"Why is it called Snakerocks?" Nightpaw asked softly as he slid to a  
halt, causing Rosepaw and Foxpaw to trip up behind him and topple over their  
own paws.

"Adders," Blackmask mewed gruffly, pointing with his muzzle to a large  
diamond-bodied snake sunbathing on a stone not five fox-lengths away.  
"Highly poisonous. As long as you can be careful and jump out of harm's  
way, though, they pose little threat. And over there"–he motioned towards  
a gaping hole beneath one of the boulders–"is where a badger used to live.  
It moved out two seasons ago and into StoneClan's territory."

"StoneClan?" Rosepaw repeated curiously. "What's that?"

"It's one of the five warrior Clans that roam the forest," he answered  
calmly, not missing the awe on their faces as he spoke. "Their territory is  
in the darker marshes and scrub lands across the Thunderpath—"

"We're near the Thunderpath?" Nightpaw mewed, looking mildly surprised.  
Foxpaw blinked his green eyes raptly, and Rosepaw was scenting the air, all  
three looking excited.

"Yes," Blackmask meowed with an unmasked groan. "We'll see it in one  
moment. Back to what I was saying. To LeafClan's left is the pine forests  
where StormClan live. Beyond it, MistClan's territory and finally,  
DesertClan of the moors. A Twolegplace shapes near us and StormClan's  
hunting grounds."

He raised his head to the leafy canopy above him and gazed into the  
cloud-raked sky. "And in Silverpelt, the sixth Clan, keeps us safe and  
protected."

"The 'sixth Clan'?" Rosepaw whispered, mystified.

"He obviously means StarClan, mouse-brain," Nightpaw snorted  
impatiently.

Rosepaw looked highly embarrassed. "Oh," she squeaked, crestfallen.  
"Sorry."

"Come on, you lot," meowed Blackmask suddenly, glancing at a hidden sun  
behind shapeless clouds. "It's nearing sunhigh—we'd better get a move  
on!"

He herded them away from the rocks, carefully slipping between the trees like  
an adder and leading them toward what looked like a flattened black snake that  
stretched for many tail-lengths in either direction.

"Wait," hissed their mentor, lowering his quivering tail.

Foxpaw could not help but suppress a tiny shudder. On either side of him,  
Rosepaw and Nightpaw crouched with their belly fur brushing the ground. He  
wouldn't, though. He wasn't a coward. Foxpaw glanced at Blackmask to make  
sure it was safe to try this; when the senior warrior paused to sneeze the  
ginger tom darted out under the alder bush onto the ribbon of darkness.

"Foxpaw, you mouse-brained fool! Get back here!" Blackmask yowled.

Warm, sticky heat flooded up his limbs, despite the cool leaf-fall air all  
around him. The apprentice suddenly fell still; the ground beneath his pads  
had begun to rumble ominously, and he gritted his teeth, looking this way and  
that. His eyes fell on a blur moving down the gravel path toward him,  
snarling, spewing fumes into the air, and Foxpaw knew the monster would be  
upon him in only heartbeats.

A whirl of black and white fur flew at him, and a moment later Foxpaw felt  
himself thrown onto marshy grass forcefully, the weight of another cat,  
panting, on top of him. Panicked mews came from across the Thunderpath; the  
ginger tomcat didn't know what had happened, only that he wasn't succumbed  
to darkness or feeling any pain. The monster had missed him.

Looking up, he saw that Blackmask's face was only a kit-step from his.  
"What," he gulped, "were you doing, wandering out there like some lost  
kit?"

Foxpaw grinned desperately. "I wanted to know what it felt like?"

The warrior heaved a long sigh, sitting up and brushing grit out of his fur  
with quick strokes.

"Rosepaw, Nightpaw, stay there," he ordered, seeing that Rosepaw's  
muscles had tensed, as though she were about to run out to meet them. "We  
don't need to invite a reason for StoneClan to attack a patrol on their  
territory, and I don't need you getting hurt for his mistake."

"Wha—?" Foxpaw shook his fluffy head, dazed. "We're on their  
territory?"

"Yes," Blackmask answered curtly. "StoneClan's territory is upwind of  
ours, across the Thunderpath. It is believed that the cold north winds chill  
the heart of StoneClan warriors, but it is only a legend."

Foxpaw still looked disbelieving as they stood up under an overhanging dead  
ash tree. "On my word, we'll run across to the other side," Blackmask  
meowed. "Ready? Go!"

They bounded across the sticky surface again, reaching the woods on the other  
side safely.

Blackmask looked around slowly. "We were unseen, thank StarClan," he  
meowed warily, his fur prickling. "Had we been caught, we would have been  
fresh-kill. There is no reason for them not to defend their borders. Come on,  
let's move on."

He stood up at once and padded down the slope past Snakerocks, easily keeping  
a firm pace. Foxpaw fell behind, feeling numb. He had been saved from possibly  
becoming crippled, or worse, death.

"Have you got maggot-gut or something?" Rosepaw mewed crossly, once in  
earshot. "That could have hit you and Blackmask!"

"Imagine that," Foxpaw mewed stubbornly, not wanting to give her the  
satisfaction of being right.

"It was a reckless thing to do," she went on. "Right, Nightpaw?"

Foxpaw's ears pricked. He glanced at the bluish-black tom who prowled along  
side, his expression unreadable. At long last he meowed, "Your death would  
have been a grave waste for this Clan, and so would have Blackmask's. It's  
a relief you made back onto this side of the Thunderpath unscathed. Battered,  
but unscathed."

Rosepaw positively beamed, her concerns for Foxpaw washed away like river  
froth. "Well-worded!" she mewed delightedly, eyeing him hopefully.

Nightpaw, however, ignored her and plunged into the undergrowth after the  
mentor. Rosepaw sighed and followed.

Foxpaw felt his insides go cold, writhing like maggots, and a fury weakly  
pulse through his head. How could Nightpaw speak in such a dismissive way?  
Would he be punished? Stripped of his new responsibilities? He ducked his head  
and padded glumly after his mentor, feeling that the best he could do now was  
behave.

"We're near a Twoleg path now," Blackmask meowed. "Rosepaw, is it  
safe to cross?"

Rosepaw paused, drawing the fresher forest scents over her glands; the smell  
of Twolegs and their dogs seemed weak and dim in comparison. "Yes," she  
answered, and they moved on.

The patrol moved a bit more slowly this time, making a circle around their  
camp and heading toward a chittering creek on the far edge of a pine forest  
and their own lush autumn woodland. The pines were unchanging at the  
undergrowth's edge, and as the patrol cautiously approached Foxpaw caught a  
new scent–definitely cat, but different from LeafClan's. It smelled of  
mist and pine needles.

Blackmask came to a halt at the wade-deep creek and announced to his  
apprentices, "Tallpines marks our boundary with StormClan's. A little ways  
beyond their territory, mostly rocky terrain and needles trees from what  
I've heard, is the beginning of a tiny Twolegplace. However, they rarely  
bother us here–though part of their own habitat is close to ours. Twolegs  
have been known to walk as far as their own home to Fourtrees on their  
separate hunting trails. There is also a Thunderpath and Twoleg dwelling at  
the edge of MistClan's territory, and on DessertClan's, an abandoned  
barn.  
"Come on, then," he snapped, his fur prickling with discomfort at being  
so close to the scent-markers.

He didn't give the three apprentices a chance to rest, and grudgingly they  
padded after him along the edge of the creek.

"Many moons ago," Blackmask meowed briskly as they followed the  
tributary, "this creek was joined to an even larger river that ran through  
our own camp. Its winded current carved out what we know as the Highrock  
today. Ah, here we are."

He stopped at the edge of the creek where now three scents mingled over the  
course of the deeper still waterbed. StormClan's territory was cut off  
abruptly by the flowing river that stretched from a Twoleg dwelling somewhere  
far-off. Across the banks they could see a silvery forest, lush with reeds and  
pebbly sand.

"And that," Blackmask indicated with his tail, "is MistClan's  
territory. They govern the glens and rivers in that stretch of forest."

He nodded, and then began to pad north along the deep river and forest with  
renewed energy. Foxpaw, Rosepaw and Nightpaw bounded after him curiously,  
taking in with them the scent of reed and frothing water as they followed the  
river.

Their destination soon appeared between the gap of two large oaks: Many gray,  
smooth stones were jumbled along the riverbed, water lapping at their smooth  
edges and the reeds encasing them. Blackmask's tail lashed, and he bounded  
the rest of the way towards the stones. Shrugging, Foxpaw, followed by  
Nightpaw and Rosepaw, tailed after him until they stood at the foot of the  
large boulder.

"The Sunningrocks," he meowed calmly. "In leaf-bare, cats come to sun  
themselves on the rocks. This is also an excellent place to track prey. Once,  
when the river was much longer and flooded the forest, these rocks were an  
island. MistClan thrived here, until the waters retreated, and we quickly laid  
claim to them now that they were on our side of the forest." He sighed.  
"Blood has been spilled over these rocks seasons before I was kitted, before  
any of you were ever thought of. My father, for instance."

If there was remorse in his voice, Rosepaw thought that she had only imagined  
it. With a leap good enough for StormClan, their mentor touched the surface of  
the warm stone and stretched. "Come on up and enjoy the sun while it's  
still here!" he called down to them; eagerly the apprentices sprang up after  
him, scrabbling, until they were able to finally haul themselves onto.

For a while they shared tongues drowsily until the sun had reached its full  
height. 

Blackmask stood, beckoning with his tail that they should rise too. He jumped  
off the log, meowing over his shoulder, "The sandy hollow next," before  
speeding off through the trees.

Rosepaw, Nightpaw and Foxpaw bounded after him until they reached a clearing  
that had sand littered beneath its branches, winded by storms and an ancient  
stream just beyond it.

"We will come to the training hollow daily," he meowed, "to hone your  
battle skills, in preparation of fighting against other cats from the Clans  
and creatures of the forest. Here I will pass on to you what was taught to me,  
and from that ancient line, now so old with warrior blood."

Nightpaw shivered, awed, and felt a little more focused on the thought of  
sinking his teeth into cat's flesh. Not just any, however: His mind had been  
burning with sharpness, knowing that here his mentor would teach him to kill  
his betrayer, who so long ago robbed hi of his kin.

If Blackmask had noticed the look of ambition shadowed on the tabby's face,  
he gave no notice, nor did Foxpaw and Rosepaw, who had been prowling around  
and scenting the trees and silky sand under paw.

"Time to go," Blackmask called to them. "We still have a few more stops  
to make!"

"A good thing too," Rosepaw grumbled, giving her face a few delicate  
strokes. Her belly growled, and she muttered in a disgruntled undertone, "I  
haven't eaten since this morning."

They propelled themselves along a pebbly stream, splashing through it. Foxpaw  
winced against the cold that brushed his belly fur, but he held his tongue in  
silence, desperate not to show this Clan warrior his unease. At last they  
arrived below a glade. Ash and fir trees rose into the air, raking the clouded  
sky with talons of auburn leaves. Mightier and taller oak trees still soared  
above the lower layer of forest. Blackmask had stopped abruptly below what  
appeared to be a very ordinary-looking oak, his whiskers twitching.

"If you'll all look up," meowed Blackmask, "you can see a hole midway  
up the trunk of the Owl Tree. A tawny owl lives there."

"O-owl?" Foxpaw wouldn't have believed that frightened syllable had  
come from Nightpaw, had he not seen the tabby's mouth move.

"Ah." Blackmasks's eyes lit up. "So I take it you've heard of the  
nursery stories queens tell their kits about owls carrying off kits?"

Nightpaw ducked his head sheepishly and nodded, Rosepaw's mouth agape,  
mumbling something that sounded like "not really true".

"Believe it," Blackmask meowed, surprising Foxpaw that he had chosen to  
use his signature catch phrase. "It is true, Nightpaw. And I'm glad  
you're displaying something other than boasting for once. Being afraid is  
nothing to be ashamed of."

Nightpaw took a step back, surprise flickering over his face for half a  
heartbeat. It faded as quickly as it had come, leaving the tabby quiet and  
scowling.

Blackmask brightened. "Now, I have a little game for you. I want you to  
snuffle around through the leaves. The first one to find an—ah,  
item—buried here gets first pick of the fresh-kill."

Foxpaw gave a jubilant mew, "Believe it!" and shoved his entire head into  
the dead, brightly leaves, his ears just poking above them. Rosepaw sniffed  
loudly, cuffing the ground with her forepaw as she searched. Nightpaw blinked  
determinedly and took off at a thorough pace, desperate to not be outdone.

"Ugh!" Rosepaw's ears shot up as she snuffed loudly and pulled back her  
head. Between her parted fangs she grimaced, holding what looked like a  
pinecone. She dropped it at her paws and spat with disgust. "You knew that  
was there, didn't you?"

The warrior nodded, purring with amusement. "First pick of the prey! And  
yes, I did. Wavestar played the same trick on me when I was an apprentice."

"Who?"

"He was leader before Brownstar and Tsunamistar were," explained  
Blackmask, flicking an ear as though to brush away an irksome fly. "Who can  
tell me what this is—?"

Rosepaw's tail stuck straight up in the air and she answered instantly,  
"An owl pod. Owls spit them back up because they can't digest the bones  
and fur. When you find one that means you—"

"—found an owl, yes," Blackmask meowed, beaming. "This is a handy  
little trick that can be a good reference to keep in mind. Come along, then;  
Fourtrees next!"

They padded beyond the rise of a hill, covered in leafy undergrowth and  
bushes. They soon found themselves padding through frosty bushes along a  
hidden path worn with many generations' paw steps. Below them, in the center  
of a large clearing rose a huge stone with a flat surface that must have had  
roots hat dug to the center of the earth below. At every edge of the clearing  
were four oaks, each probably generations old. Years must have flown by and  
these oaks still stood. Foxpaw, blinking through the sunlight that flooded the  
clearing, could almost imagine standing here again, waiting for Tsunamistar to  
signal their descend into Fourtrees.

Blackmask raised his head towards the sky, as if he, too, were remembering  
the full moon casting silver moon-bleached light down upon them.

"At each full moon, we meet with StormClan here and head down the slope;  
their Clan travels along the river's edge to reach the Gathering. We fear no  
treachery from their leader, Flowerstar," he added, noting Rosepaw's  
incredulous look. "There is a full moon truce. On these nights we don't  
fight, nor shame our ancestors. All five Clan leaders share news from the  
great Rock," he went on.

"Is there a Gathering soon?" Rosepaw asked curiously, fixing her mentor  
with bright green eyes.

Blackmask nodded, looking impressed. "Indeed, there is! Three nights from  
now, in fact. Though I don't know if Tsunamistar will be bring you, as you  
are the youngest of your denmates."

Over Foxpaw and Rosepaw's groans Nightpaw glanced up to survey the sinking  
sun beyond Highstones, its milky flames painting the sky blood red and indigo.  
His eyes were chips of ice in the gathering darkness of dappled tree leaves.

"Shouldn't we get going?" he asked with a touch of impatience to his  
voice.

Blackmask glanced upward, gasped so loudly that all three young cats jumped,  
and slapped a black paw over his face. "I'm so mouse-brained!" he  
groaned, shaking his head impatiently. "The lot of, we're heading back to  
camp, and hopefully we'll be back in time to meet the next patrol! Come on,  
now—Rosepaw, first pick of fresh-kill, remember that—Foxpaw, due to  
earlier's incident you'll be sorting out new bedding for the elders  
tonight—"

"Mouse-dung!" snarled Foxpaw.

"—and going over their coats ticks with mouse-bile for that unnecessary  
commentary."

Nightpaw sneered, returned equally by a quivering Foxpaw. Blackmask scanned  
the dusky sky, turned on his paws, and with his apprentices fled into the  
night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A nearly-full moon lit the deserted clearing with silver light, adding a  
touch of comfort to the still night air. Between the branches of a bush a  
muscular tomcat slipped from between, his steps light and soft as he left the  
dark corner of the camp. The frost clinging to the dying leaves did not touch  
him as he slipped across the clearing, listening to the breathing of his  
Clan-mates all around him. He approached a large rock that mounted from the  
ground to see a pale gray she-cat crouched in the shadows of her lichen-draped  
den.

"You asked me to come," the tom meowed, bowing his head respectfully.

The darker-speckled she-cat dipped her head in welcome. "Blackmask," she  
greeted him with a warm note in her meow. "Thank you for coming. Would you  
come with me? Into the forest?"

There was hesitation in the dark cat's eyes, but he nodded.

"Excellent." Side-by-side, they padded across the clearing and vanished  
through the gorse tunnel, the she-cat pausing to nod to Loyalheart as they drew  
into the forest.

They traveled some distance through the trees and undergrowth, passing the.  
Frost glazed everything with a starry glittering, as though Silverpelt had  
fallen into the grass. They didn't stop even after they had bounded past the  
sandy hollow; the line of trees was thinning, and before long Blackmask could  
hear the soft churning of water in the river.

"Tsunamistar, why are we here?' he meowed, pausing below one of the large  
boulders of the Sunningrocks he had visited earlier that morning.

Tsunamistar glanced warily through the thicket of trees before she bounded  
next to him, their pelts nearly touching as she spoke. "I could not risk  
being overheard," she mewed. "There are some things I did not care to let  
others hear and repeat through Clan gossip."

"What are these 'things'?" Blackmask meowed warily, narrowing his  
eyes.

Tsunamistar cast her blue gaze up toward Silverpelt, studying the glittering  
swathe of stars with a thoughtful look. "StarClan has spoken to me."

Blackmask's ears pricked with interest. "And not Fawnspots?"

"And not Fawnspots," she replied gravely. "I learned of this many  
seasons ago, when Brownstar was still leader, and every full moon it haunts me  
in my sleep."

"Then why tell me?" the warrior demanded anxiously, flattening his ears.  
"This is meant for a medicine cats ears, not mine."

"But that is the problem." The she-cat looked moons older, worry  
shadowing her face. "There are two other cats who know about our  
ancestor's message, and one may even know what it means."

Blackmask held his breath as she paused to add, "And both are currently in  
exile."

"Is this bad?"

"Now that the time has come for the prophecy to reveal itself, I fear the  
traitor will come and seek whom it is about." She lowered her muzzle and  
bore her gaze into his, searching his eyes. When she spoke again, it was in a  
rasp that was not hers, but belonged to another owner who chose to speak its  
words through her: _"When darkness, fire, and air collide, the earth, born  
in the stars, shall shake the sky."_

Sinister wings spread from within Blackmasks's heart, leaving him gaping  
with his jaw parted in astonishment. The air became stiller, more  
frost-bitten, and he could see the weight of the proclamation Tsunamistar had  
been bearing on her shoulders for StarClan knows how many moons.

"What does it mean?" he croaked, shivering to the roots of his pelt.

Tsunamistar remained silent.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you of all cats would understand, Blackmask," she  
meowed. "And I trust you, as I could not trust any other."

Her eyes suddenly glazed over, and in an identical rasp to the one she had  
used before meowed, _"And the prophecy involves you."_

"Tsunamistar," Blackmask ventured warily, "who are the cats in the  
prophecy? And how am I involved?"

The speckled she-cat shook herself out of the trance. "I believe that the  
cats in StarClan's message are your apprentices."

Stones. Blackmask could have sworn that little tidbit of information was the  
equivalent of stones crushing him flat in to the dirt, drowning him and  
filling his lungs with soil. "Foxpaw? Rosepaw? Nightpaw? How could it refer  
to _them_?"

"If you haven't forgotten, as I doubt you have," the warrior queen  
growled, "one is not of LeafClan, the second seeks the spilled blood of his  
kin, and the third might one day soon demonstrate power that only StarClan can  
wield among the living. Though all of our apprentices demonstrate the skill  
and courage of warriors, I see dark times unfolding before us, and whom  
StarClan recognizes to yield both destruction and salvation."

"Should they be told?" Blackmask meowed.

"No!" Tsunamistar gasped. "Such ideas would get to their heads! They  
mustn't know. And the last time other cats were let into our confidence, and  
Brownstar's," she meowed poisonously, "there were deaths."

Blackmask hesitated, as though he wanted to say something, but he merely  
dipped his head in consent. "What do you want me to do?"

"I have a mission for you. I want you to set off for Highstones  
tomorrow."

"To speak with StarClan?"

"Of course not." Tsunamistar's whiskers twitched. "I want you to go  
and find an old friend of mine. Toadstep. He lives at the barn on the edge of  
DessertClan's territory. Head for Fourtrees, and stay on the outskirts of  
their territory as to not invoke hostility from them, as only leaders and  
medicine cats are granted safe passage. There are stirs of trouble from our  
old allies, I regret to say. Also, I wish for Mighteye to temporarily take  
over your apprentices' training until you come back."

She didn't fail to notice his unease, for she then snapped, "Oh, come off  
it! You can live with him watching over them for one day! You shouldn't be  
long." Her eyes burned with blue fire as she spoke: "Besides, they'll  
get more experience this way. I heard he's taking his own apprentices  
hunting tomorrow."

Blackmask still looked uneasy. "I suppose so."

The Clan leader studied him. "You fear for our Clan's safety."

"The wars are not so old," he muttered, staring forward, as though he  
could picture cats leaping at each other with claws outstretched. "StoneClan  
and DessertClan are even more restless than usual; I smell their anxiety on  
border marks. Even calm MistClan seems tense."

"We can't always fear attack," Tsunamistar soothed him. "Though you  
are right; times are changing. We have had peace for several long moons now,  
just in time to welcome new apprentices."

"It takes time to train our young ones," Blackmask pointed out  
patiently.

Tsunamistar sighed, her eyes glinting in the darkness. "I am aware of this.  
We are born with teeth and claws for a reason." The she-cat flicked her  
tail, a clear indication to end the discussion. "In the morning I'll ask  
Fawnspots to give you herbs for the long journey ahead."

"At dawn, then," Blackmask meowed.

"At dawn," Tsunamistar agreed, touching her tail-tip to his shoulder.  
"May StarClan light your path, my friend."

Across the river, half-hidden in the reeds and cattails, another cat was on  
the prowl, its ears pricked and listening to the words it could barely pick  
out over the lapping sound of the river. It shuddered, knowing the moment had  
come. It knew what it had to do. The cat circled impatiently, flexed its  
powerfully muscles and tabby fur, the moonlight glinting in its amber eyes.

Its lips curled back into a silent snarl. Knowing what must be done, the  
tabby slithered through the undergrowth, away from LeafClan's territory and  
into MistClan's heartland. A new regime would begin tonight.

A traitor was abroad. 


	4. In Blackmask's Absence

Chapter 3- In Blackmask's Absence 

Foxpaw emerged from the den, his tail dragging in the dust, as well as his paws. He looked up at the sky and groaned. The sun was still hiding beneath the trees and the sky was a mixture of pearlish-grays and a watery peach color. Foxpaw blinked his eyes and yawned lethargically.

"A warrior is never tired. He's always on his toes, ready for anything." The sudden voice made Foxpaw jump and spin around, his hackles raised. The owner of the voice was none other than Rockpaw. He was perhaps the only cat in camp who was more enthusiastic than he was.

"Rockpaw. Do me a favor and save your quotes for later when you can be a mentor's pet for Mighteye." Foxpaw said with a slight growl touching his tone. Foxpaw wasn't exactly the cheeriest when he was tired.

A hard glint formed in Rockpaw's eye but before he could come up with a good retort, Rosepaw came up to both of them. "Have either of you seen Blackmask?" She asked, looking impatient. Her shimmering white and ginger pelt seemed to glow in the morning light.

When both of them shook their heads, Rosepaw heaved a sigh, "Fangpaw and Bugpaw said the same thing! I wonder where he is?"

"I can answer that." They all turned to see Tsunamistar standing tall over all of them. "Blackmask is out on business for me. Mighteye will take over your training for today, and possibly tomorrow." When other matters caught her attention, she left them.

Foxpaw looked up to the heavens and let out a weak groan, but Rockpaw looked pleased. "That means that she must think that Mighteye is a great warrior! I mean really, Tsunamistar must have placed great trust in him if she's letting him take over six apprentices! Let me go find out more."

Foxpaw went to find Mighteye as well. He spotted Dragonpaw and Whitepaw standing a few tail-lengths away. "Hey, have you seen Mighteye?"

"Yes." Dragonpaw said, as Whitepaw bashfully looked down at her paws. "He was over by the fresh-kill pile not too long ago."

Sure enough, when Foxpaw looked in that direction, he saw both Rockpaw and Mighteye there. He raced over to both of them. "What are we doing today?" He demanded as soon as he was beside them.

"Calm down, youngster." Mighteye said, flashing him his winning smile and letting out a hearty laugh. "Blackmask told me that he was going to teach you fighting, and I wouldn't want to mess with his schedule, right?" He winked and then laughed again.

"But, Mighteye." Rockpaw objected, his eyes full of longing. "You promised that today you'd teach us the difference of hunting a rabbit and hunting a bird."

Mighteye leaned back and his ears twitched. "Did I now? Well, change of plans. Only the best warriors can cope with change. Am I right, Rockpaw?"

Rockpaw's eyes shined once more. "Absolutely sir!" He said, nodding his head vigorously.

-----------------------------------

"This is great. Just great." Rosepaw muttered under her breath. "I wonder why Tsunamistar asked _Mighteye _to fill in for Blackmask while he's on that 'secret mission' of his. Of all warriors!" And then she glanced back in the direction of camp. "Well, at least I'm not with Mountainpaw."

Mighteye was leading them to the training hollow, and each set of apprentices seemed to be keeping to themselves. Nightpaw now turned toward Rosepaw, his tail twitching.

"You and Mountainpaw, always fighting. Why don't you give us all a break and just shove a mouse up your—"

"Shut your mouth, Nightpaw." Foxpaw said, leaping to the defense of Rosepaw. He could tell that his threat was hurting her. She had adverted her eyes and was blushing fiercely. "Any rivalry between Mountainpaw and Rosepaw is their own business."

He had hoped that Rosepaw would at least be grateful for his words but instead her eyes flashed with anger. Only when Nightpaw was out of hearing range did she hiss under her breath, "Next time, let me handle it."

_She's embarrassed that I helped her! _Foxpaw cried out indignantly to himself. _Some show of thanks!_

"Here we are, the training hollow." Mighteye's booming voice overshadowed his own thoughts. "Now, first I want you all to watch and listen very carefully." (Rockpaw was already noting every paw step his mentor made.) "Then I want you to split into groups of two and practice what I will soon tell you." He looked around and then said, "Ah, Nightpaw, come over here. You'll be the perfect example."

Foxpaw saw the envy that was spreading on Rockpaw's face; and he too, was jealous. He would have liked to have been chosen so that he could show Mighteye his skills. His gaze then returned to Mighteye and Nightpaw.

The warrior dropped into a crouch, motioning for Nightpaw to do the same, and then he said, "It is traditional to start off your fight by circling your opponent. It's not only traditional but it also helps you gain time to pinpoint the weakest spot for attack, which is usually the belly or the throat."

Nightpaw and Mighteye made a perfect circle, their movements fluid. Foxpaw, for once, was paying attention. His eyes were rapt on the pair.

Mighteye went on, "When finding the perfect place for attack, try to keep your eyes wandering, so that they won't notice where you will be moving. The key is to keep them guessing." As he said this, he kept his focus on no part of Nightpaw in particular, but Foxpaw had a feeling that he would strike his left side, because the apprentice was leaning to his right.

He had guessed Mighteye's moves perfectly. Mighteye now lunged towards Nightpaw, his paws outstretched, his muzzle tucked down to his chest. He attacked with claws sheathed and was careful not to bite him. _That was why his muzzle was tucked in_, Foxpaw said to himself.

There was a cloud of dust and then when it cleared, Foxpaw laughed aloud. He saw that Nightpaw was pinned to the ground, a scowl on his face. Mighteye heard him and gave him a wink, saying, "Don't get too cocky, kid. I bet I could beat you too."

"Beat me? No way! Believe it!" Foxpaw said indignantly.

"Calm down, calm down." Mighteye said, laughing in his deep voice. "Now, go on, split into groups of two."

Dragonpaw teamed up with Rosepaw, and Rockpaw with Whitepaw, which left him and…_Terrific! I have to fight Nightpaw. _Foxpaw hissed mutely at the way they had been paired. And then his eyes widened as he thought, _No wait, this is perfect. Now I can show everybody that I _am_ better than Nightpaw!_

Foxpaw slowly approached Nightpaw, trying his best to sound casual as he said, "Well. I guess that leaves us then." Nightpaw gave him a cold look and then shrugged. "What's done is done."

Foxpaw nodded and increased the space between them by taking a few backwards steps, right into Rosepaw.

"Watch it, Foxpaw!" She snapped at him.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and then moved a few badger-lengths away from Rosepaw and Dragonpaw. They started circling each other, and Foxpaw searched for a weak spot. _Where is it? Where is it?_ He thought frantically. Nightpaw was now protecting both sides. His chin was tucked so that he couldn't swipe at his throat, and his belly was low to the ground. _So what can I do? Where do I strike--?_

Suddenly his feet were swept underneath him and he was lying on his back, Nightpaw's paw resting on his belly.

"You're easily distracted, Foxpaw." Nightpaw said in the same cold voice he always used. "Pay attention."

"_Pay attention!" that's all anyone ever tells me. _Foxpaw fumed, and then sighed, _I sure glad that Blackmask wasn't here to see this. _


	5. Banished Warrior

**As you know, Alex and I are taking turns. This chapter is written by her. It's really good, isn't it?**

Chapter Four: Banished Warrior

Heavy rain pattered down on the dreary LeafClan camp. Foxpaw stood under the  
shelter of an elm tree, his ginger fur fluffed up as he watched puddles form  
in the mud. He sighed. The weather seemed to be imitating his feelings as  
perfectly as anything today. Or maybe StarClan pitied him for that morning's  
dreadful training exercise.

It had all started with Nightpaw tripped him flat on his face with that  
battle technique Mighteye had demonstrated. Obviously both cats were against  
him, and he hated it. Though some nagging thought told him it had been because  
he let his disappointment get to him, he relished blaming Mighteye,  
Nightpaw–even Rockpaw was a good target.

Around the clearing he could see eyes glinting from their dens, watching the  
rain warily. Foxpaw made himself more comfortable in his crude shelter and  
replayed the exercise in the sandy hollow: Nightpaw, tripping him again and  
again every time he tried to nick Nightpaw off his paws. And then, of course,  
for Dragonpaw, who was doing as poorly as he was, Mighteye decided it was  
worth using his example as a way of how not to attacking enemy warriors.

Rosepaw had gibbered all the way back to camp later that afternoon, the sun  
well hidden behind stormy gray clouds. She had been nearly as good as Nightpaw  
and Whitepaw; both toms proved good in combat, and even stupid  
Rockpaw–Foxpaw admitted grudgingly–was good. Dragonpaw did better then  
him, and she didn't even try to raise a paw at the white apprentice.  
Nightpaw had even gone as far as to insult him right in front of Mighteye. And  
the stupid old flea-bag was too busy praising his own little Rockpaw to  
notice! Foxpaw bit back a snarl as he thought grudgingly, And then you go and  
blow up cursing at him! Mouse-brained, feather-headed, stupid—

"Foxpaw!" a loud voice called, and Foxpaw blinked his green eyes,  
glancing up. Outside the fallen log he could see Bristlepelt glaring at him,  
looking ill-tempered and cranky.

Foxpaw groaned, remembering the best part of his day: As punishment for  
nearly jumping on Nightpaw and trying to pummel, him he was to clean out  
soiled bedding, get new moss, go over her pelt with mouse-bile, and bring her  
food (not that he had yet learned how to hunt, of course).

Dejectedly he sped out across the clearing and into the grassy space outside  
the den. Bristlepelt was waiting for him with her paws tucked under her and  
her black eyes glinting.

"Yes?" Foxpaw grunted.

"Show some respect, I've done my duties a hundred times more than you  
ever will," she meowed smugly, flicking an ear. "Besides," she meowed  
slyly, "seeing as how often I have the fortune of you caring for me, I  
thought we'd be good old friends by now."

Foxpaw ducked his head to hide his mutinous glare.

"Right," she grunted, "I want you to go dump that"–she pointed to a  
clump of rain-sodden moss–"behind the nursery and go catch me something. I  
have a preference for birds, you know, the usual chaffinch, sparrow,  
wagtail–"

"I can't hunt yet, it's only been two days." Foxpaw sighed.

"Oh?" Bristlepelt perked her white ears in fake surprise. "Terribly  
sorry. Then go get me something from the fresh-kill pile."

Foxpaw hesitated, wondering wether to find some sort of loophole that was  
weather-related, when the cranky elder snapped, "Now!" and he ran for it.  
Her tongue was as sharp as any set of claws!

He skidded across the clearing, sending up sprays of water. His ginger fur  
stuck against his small frame. Approaching the pile he now noticed a wet  
bundle of tabby fur next to it, and he purred.

"Hi, Greentail," he mewed delightedly, shaking water droplets from his  
fur.

"Nice way to give a greeting!" Greentail meowed, ducking away as droplets  
splattered her fur, though her eyes brimmed with cheek. "StarClan, this is  
too wet, even for MistClan."

"Any birds?" asked Foxpaw hopefully.

"One muddy sparrow," Greentail meowed, as the ginger tomcat selected it.  
"Who's it for? Bristlepelt?"

His mouth full of feathers, Foxpaw nodded.

Greentail's eyes were sympathetic. "You know," she mewed suddenly,  
looking mischievous, "all you have to do is stuff in a few poppy seeds, and  
there you go, she'll be out faster than a rain on a fire. Oh, come on off  
it," she meowed incredulously, seeing his disbelieving look, "I did that  
when I was an apprentice, and I never had to lift a claw afterward. The elders  
just slept on endlessly, which was a complete mystery to the medicine cat."

Foxpaw's chest soared. Could it really work?

"But wouldn't Fawnspots notice if I just walked into his den and took a  
whole store of his herbs?" he pointed out dully.

"Ah." Greentail gave her ears a few quick strokes. "See, this is where  
I come in. I'll lure him away so you have enough time to take some poppy  
seeds and run for it."

"But—"

"FOXPAW!" came an impatient yowling from across the camp: it was  
Bristlepelt.

"Now or never, apprentice," mewed Greentail swiftly.

Foxpaw flattened his ears, remembering the last time how Bristlepelt had  
mocked him mercilessly while he scooped out bedding. "Shame I can't give  
her a few deathberries while I'm at it."

Greentail grinned broadly. "Foxpaw!" she gasped in fake astonishment.  
"She's a delicate, lazy, old codger of a Clan elder! Show some  
respect!"

"Or maybe a little less," Foxpaw growled, tearing impatiently at the  
ground with his claws, imagining that it was Bristlepelt's fur. "Get  
going; hurry, please!" he added as another loud complaint rose into the  
air.

Greentail gave him a fake bow of importance, "O, yes, great Clan leader,"  
before nodding smartly and disappearing toward Fawnspot's den, calling  
loudly, "Fawnspots! Can you look at something?"

He watched as the medicine cat and tabby warrior left the fern-enclosed  
clearing, and as fast as flash Foxpaw pelted toward it.

He had never been inside the den before, only just outside the small  
enclosure. Through the gloom of the rocky crevice he picked out the shape of  
moss. That must be Fawnspot's nest. There were other sparse nests for what  
must be patients, because the scent of sickness and cat was stale. He edged  
along nicks in the stone and piles of neatly-stacked herbs, snuffling at  
leaves and berries until he found what he was looking for: tiny, black seeds.  
Licking his pad, Foxpaw gently plucked them on, shaking off extras. He limped  
toward the bedraggled sparrow and tore into the breast, hiding five poppy  
seeds beneath its plumage. Certain that they were well hidden, he grabbed its  
wing-tip gingerly and peeked outside.

No sign of Fawnspots or Greentail. Time to go.

Foxpaw couldn't have felt less like a spy even if he tried, though a giddy  
excitement overcame him, and he trembled. Flattening his fur, the ginger  
tomcat stealthily padded over to Bristelpelt and laid the limp bird at her  
paws, hiding his twitching whiskers.

"About time, too," she meowed ungratefully, snatching up the sparrow.  
"Ugh! All water-logged and everything! How MistClan can stand it is beyond  
me..."

The seeds seemed to be working (Foxpaw dared to hope) and within a few  
minutes her ranting broke into tired snores.

Foxpaw gently back away, overcome with success. The only thing missing  
was—

"Greentail, you cheeky she-cat! Mouse-doffer, immature warrior!"

Foxpaw's (and half a dozen others) heads turned to see Greentail dart into  
camp, her fur smoothed with rain water, but otherwise brimming. Fawnspots  
trotted after her, his fur bristling indignantly.

"Honestly, playing me up with that load of mouse-dung! There's a reason  
you haven't gotten your own apprentices yet!"

Beyond the gorsetunnel he could see the brown-furred tom heave with  
exasperation, his paws carrying him back into LeafClan's camp. The medicine  
cat snorted, glancing pointedly at Greentail before disappearing into his  
den.

Greentail let out a mrrow of laughter as she joined Foxpaw, her eyes  
watering.

"What did you tell him?" Foxpaw meowed curiously, embolden by her  
success.

Greentail drew herself up proudly. "That I was fathering another Clan  
cat's kits, and wanted him to check in private. I'm pretty sure he knew I  
was lying, but I had just downed three mice, so I might have looked plumper...  
Don't flatten your ears, it worked, didn't it?" she meowed rather  
bluntly, plopping down despite the constant tearful rain showers.

Foxpaw grimaced. "That's something pretty serious to lie about–"

"Don't get your fur in a twist," scoffed the brown she-cat, shaking her  
head. "I've been doing worse since I was kit; my apprentice ceremony was  
almost postponed, but Brownstar though otherwise...he thought a mentor to  
discipline me was a brilliant idea. Anyway, don't follow my example, unless  
you really want to keep dosing old she-cats with sleeping drugs until you're  
my age."

Through the sheets of rain that wrecked the camp, Foxpaw saw Fawnspots nudge  
Bristepelt, shake his head slowly, and pad back toward his own den again.

"Anyway!" grunted Greentail, heaving herself into a stretch, "I have to  
get going soon! I'm due for the evening patrol with Scarface, Russeteye and,  
ah, I believe a few of you apprentices."

The flame-coated kitten's ears drooped with disappointment. "Oh. Well,  
see you, then."

"'Bye, Foxpaw!" Greentail purred, quickly touching noses with him  
before charging through the much and mire. "Keep out of trouble!"

In spite of himself, Foxpaw grinned, and when he turned away he saw something  
in the deserted clearing he hadn't expected to be there: Cleverpaw.

The small-framed tabby was oblivious to gusts of rain pounding his fur. He  
merely shuddered, blinking after the spot where Fawnspot's hindquarters had  
vanished into his den.

"Cleverpaw?" Foxpaw meowed, but his denmate remained solitary. "Hey,  
Cleverpaw, you're going to catch a cold out in the rain!"

Cleverpaw, at the sound of his name, gave a startled jump and spun on his  
heels, whipping around wildly. Upon seeing Foxpaw his long fur stopped  
bristling. "Oh. It's you."

"Yeah, me," Foxpaw meowed with a pang of uncertainty. "Are you not  
feeling well? I hope you realize that Fawnspots is here to look after you; you  
only have to give him your say-so—"

"No!" Cleverpaw meowed in a much higher voice than usual; his eyes were  
wide with some unmasked emotion that he couldn't read.

"It was just a thought!" Panic washed over Foxpaw. Was Cleverpaw really  
sick?

"I'm not a kit anymore, and neither are you!" Cleverpaw hissed, lashing  
his tail. "I'm fine! Fine! Why does everyone keep asking?"

With a final glance at the rocky shelter, Cleverpaw stalked away toward their  
own nests, muttering darkly. Foxpaw opened his mouth to call an angry retort  
after him, but he fell silent. What had riled Cleverpaw up so badly? The tabby  
was normally undisturbed and relaxed; he never took a temper. Feeling lost, he  
dragged his paws across the clearing and headed for the fern enclosure that  
made their den. Padding inside, he carefully chose a nest away from Cleverpaw.  
The only cats out of the rain were Cleverpaw, himself, and Sunpaw, dozing  
sleepily in her nest.

His green eyes rested briefly on the pale she-cat for half a heartbeat. After  
today's disastrous training, he wanted to be as far away as he could from  
Nightpaw and Rosepaw.

Slowly he circled the moss clump until next to hers until he found a dry  
spot; he tucked in and slumped into it with grateful exhaustion. Next to him,  
Sunpaw mewled in her sleep and rolled onto her back. Side-by-side, he listened  
to the rain as it began to ease. The sounds of the forest, a starling  
chirruping, cats meowing to each other outside their den, became meaningless  
noise as Foxpaw's eyes drooped.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four massive oaks rose into the sky. In a sheltered clearing, shaped by  
ancient times long past, Foxpaw found himself in the middle of sweeping, tall  
grass. He was confused. How did I get here? He racked his memory for any  
recollection of coming to the hollow before settling down to sleep, but  
nothing occurred to him. The tom lifted his head and glanced up. The leaves  
were so leafy and inviting, flitting on warm breezes that tugged at his fur  
playfully.

Green? Leafy? It's leaf-fall, not greenleaf! Foxpaw thought in  
bewilderment. And when have the stars ever been so close? The frosty lights  
looked like they barely reached the topmost branches of the great oaks he now  
recognized as Fourtrees.

A leaf-crackle in the undergrowth made him freeze. Foxpaw exploded into a run  
and just barely threw himself into the shelter of a bramble bush. Ducking his  
ears, he peered out of the clump of leaves to see a pale gray outline crossing  
the clearing and standing with its back toward the Great Rock. A familiar  
scent hit the roof of his parted mouth.

Tsunamistar.

He crouched lower, not out of respect, but fear for being caught spying. From  
across the tall grassy clearing came a rustle. His ears swivelled toward it.  
Pawsteps? he wondered. It sounded distant and mute; suddenly, the noise become  
louder, and a massive tomcat stepped out. His fur glittered with the tangle of  
stars, and under a watery crescent-moon he looked halfway into the world of  
StarClan, half hidden among shadows and darkness. Foxpaw's belly tightened.  
He held his breath, not daring to call out.

His scent was foreign yet not unfamiliar, the tang of LeafClan riding a  
breeze that tore clouds over the moon. Tattered, dappled moonlight washed the  
clearing in silver light, striking Tsunamistar's broad shoulders. The two  
cats stood apart a tail-length for a moment's pause, then touched noses like  
old friends.

And with a feeling of dread, Foxpaw realized that the waking world was well  
behind him now: This was StarClan's hunting grounds.

Am I dead?

"Do StarClan have a message for me?" his leader asked, her ice-chipped  
eyes unmoving.

The brown cat nodded. "A time is fast-approaching where imminent battle may  
be upon your Clan, and the forest."

Tsunamistar's fur bristled. "Can you explain this to me? What is the  
danger?" she meowed softly, but the terror was still in her full-moon eyes.

The dead warrior's pelt rippled. "Water and wind are abroad, as is an  
enemy I thought banished seasons ago. You must fear and carry so much on your  
shoulders; it is a burden that I tell you to fear those who seem so innocent  
and trusting."

Foxpaw's heart skipped a beat. He strained his senses harder, desperate to  
hear more.

The old cat suddenly fixed his gaze past her shoulders and parted his jaws,  
trembling. "When darkness, fire, and air collide, the earth, born in the  
stars, shall shake the sky."

Tsunamistar was as still as the massive rock behind her, the wind picking up  
and carrying over the ground the scent of ice and fire of the wild places of  
the night. His words had the unmistakable ring of a prophecy.

The gray she-cat shuddered, her fur on end. "Please, tell me what you  
mean!"

"I can tell you know more, for we have an audience," the old cat rasped,  
his night-eyes glinting amber in the darkness. Dappled shadows shredded his  
pelt; for a moment, his gaze crossed the heather-ringed hollow, and Foxpaw  
swore that for several heartbeats too long they rested on where he hid.

He knows I'm here! Foxpaw panicked, turning and running into the trees. His  
paws carried him into the thicket of trees, alive with forest-scents that hung  
crisply in his fur. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to  
run, run as far as his legs would take him. Bunching his muscles, Foxpaw  
prepared to leap a shallow log when the crunching of paws in the undergrowth  
alerted him. He swivelled his ears back, afraid of what he would see, despite  
the fact that those dreaming could not necessarily be hurt.

Before he could move a whirl of fur crashed into him. Foxpaw opened his  
mouth, preparing to give off a noisy caterwaul when a thick bushel of tail fur  
clamped over his mouth. Two soft paws pinned him, and Foxpaw was forced to  
look up into a pair of familiar nettled, green eyes and squared muzzle.

"Rosepaw?"

The she-cat glared at him, though her ears twitched involuntarily. "These  
woods," she hissed, "aren't safe! We shouldn't be here."

Gradually she sheathed her claws and scrambled off him, allowing Foxpaw a  
gasp of air. Was this what that old cat meant when he said 'we have an  
audience," besides him?

"How—?" he spluttered. Hesitantly, quite unsure if she was really here  
or not, he padded toward her and gave her a quick jab in the ribs. Rosepaw  
recoiled wth disgust.

"Ouch! What was that for?" she mewed crossly.

"S–Sorry," he stammered, relieved, "I just didn't—"

"Didn't think I could be here, too, did you?" Rosepaw meowed tartly,  
flattening her ears. "Well, too bad, I am."

"What's going—" Foxpaw began, but before he could finish they heard  
the sound of many cats' paws drumming against the forest floor. There came  
deep, pattered meows that sounded anxious, and an alien scent wreathed around  
them, almost sinister, far different from the presence of the Starclan  
warrior's.

Danger inflamed his instincts, and Rosepaw, all disguise forgotten, yowled,  
"Run!"

The two apprentices shot out through the ferns and grass, undergrowth  
brushing their flanks as they propelled through the dark trees. Slivers of  
starlight cris-crossed their path, marking unfamiliar trees as they plunged  
deeper through the foliage. The moon had vanished into an eerily gloomy sky,  
and soon Foxpaw found that he couldn't recognize the woods they bounded  
through.

"Rosepaw," he panted, "we need to stop—it seems safe to—"

Rosepaw, her eyes wild with terror gradually, slid to a halt. The forest had  
changed heavily. Large, leafy planted furled with mist and gloom, and  
gathering among the roots of tree trunks were glowing mushrooms and fungi that  
had a transparent, musky yellow-green glow. Ivy curled about rotting trees,  
shaping a dark forest that was thick and pungent with odd scents.

Rosepaw shivered. "This place has never known warmth or sunshine," she  
whispered hoarsely.

"The sun never rises here?" Foxpaw meowed, glancing up to stare at the  
sky. It was an endless black void, as un-penetrable as Mothermouth's winding  
tunnels. It was all cold.

There were no stars.

"How d-did we get he-here?" he asked, scanning the branches for any sign  
of life.

Rosepaw, for once, couldn't find an answer to the question. "We've left  
StarClan's territory far behind us."

"We need to go, we need to get out of here," the ginger apprentice  
meowed. "Oh, can't we just wake up?"

Off in the distance he heard a sound that filled him with dread: an odd sort  
of chanting, vibrating within him from tail-tip to nose. This forest seemed  
sinister, hunted by things he didn't dare try to name, as if keeping them  
unspoken of would banish their existence. But by how much? he wondered darkly,  
unsheathing his claws into the peaty ground.

Rosepaw shifted her paws uneasily, scuttling up dead leaves. "You hear  
that?"

"Cats," Foxpaw agreed softly. "Come on, whatever it"–he  
swallowed–"is, we better move on before they can catch up."

"But how did we get here?" she wondered, sniffing the creaky wet-wood set  
of an oak's bark. "However we managed to leave Fourtrees and wind up here,  
it isn't a good place. There's no light."

Foxpaw couldn't hold back any longer. "Do you think we're dead?" he  
blurted out, his voice coming out as a squeak.

Rosepaw hesitated for a heartbeat, then: "No, we're very much alive. My  
heartbeat is going so wildly I thought it would burst from my chest."

"But how did we both–you know?" He had no words for how they had both  
eavesdropped on their Clan leader and warrior ancestors.

Again, Rosepaw looked uncertain, even terrified. A dim light kindled in her  
stormy green eyes, reliving Foxpaw's own fears.

"I don't know," she mewed. "But we weren't suppose to hear  
that—" She stopped suddenly, her ears pricked. The odd mix of chanting-few  
voices had grown slightly into a distant thunder of noise.

"Let's head this way; move it!" she hissed, glancing toward a dark  
corner of leaves and brambles.

Foxpaw nodded, her urgent mew reawakening him somehow and giving him energy.  
"Lead the way." Together, side-by-side, they bounded into the leafy  
bushes, pushing through the darkness.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was shaking Foxpaw hard. He snored heavily and muttered a curse.

"What? What's the matter? Is StoneClan invading or something?" he  
grunted, batting away at the persistent paws with sleepiness.

"No," growled a voice, "but we do have a problem. Blackmask is  
back."

Foxpaw's green eyes shot open as he gazed up into Nightpaw's stoic face.  
The tabby shook his head and padded outside, his tabby fur outlined by the  
light of a near-full moon. Sitting up, the ginger apprentice saw some  
stragglers milling about the cramped den, shaking their fellows awake. Fangpaw  
nudged Rosepaw until she staggered to her paws, and then slipped outside.

They found each other's eyes and stared, each mirroring the same  
bewilderment and shock. Rosepaw stood, jerked with her head for him to hurry,  
and followed Nightpaw outside.  
Foxpaw glanced around. Sunpaw was gone, her nest cold and warm scent stale;  
he could feel beads of hot sweat sticking beneath his facial fur, and  
unwillingly he stretched, padding outside with anxiety prickling his pads.  
Cold night air gushed over his face; the storm clouds had cleared.

The rest of the Clan was gathered at the center of camp in a ragged circle,  
their fur bristling and hackles raised. He squeezed his way through the  
company, rudely bumping into Palefur until he stood between Bugpaw and  
Talonwing. Blackmask was limping forward from the gorsetunnel, exhausted and  
wiry, and his companion wasn't much better off: a large, muscular tom with a  
clumped, dirty rowan-red tabby fur and a white-marked faced and speckled  
torso. Gray hairs tinged his tail-tip and around his muzzle, but he still  
looked strong, a few more active moons before retirement, perhaps.

"Tsunamistar." Flowernose stepped forward, looking small among the older  
cats. She had only been named a warrior two moons ago. "Who is this?"

The LeafClan leader stepped forward so that she stood almost nose-to-nose  
with the loner. "This," she meowed, "is Toadstep, a former warrior of  
LeafClan."

Murmuring broke out, and a few older cats—Russeteye and Moontree, for  
example—called out greetings.

"Former?" meowed a suspicious voice, and without even turning his head to  
see the speaker Foxpaw recognized Bristlepelt's scathing voice.

"So you're awake." Tsunamistar blinked calm blue eyes at the elder.

"Yes," she meowed, and fixed the loner with cool eyes. "I remember  
watching you in the nursery," she grunted, "and then you were that spying  
little apprentice, but still, Brownstar saw that you were made a senior  
warrior." Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you come back now?"

"It was at my request," growled Tsunamistar, and at that moment Blackmask  
heaved and slumped onto his side, panting heavily. Loyalheart darted forward  
and sniffed his flank, glancing back into the sea of faces.

"Fawnspots!" she called, waiting to see the medicine cat come ambling  
forward with a bundle of herbs between his teeth.

Tsunamistar waved her tail to silence the chorus of meowing. "All is  
safe," she assured them with warmth and confidence. "Smokeheart,  
Eveningsun, I would like you to take the moonhigh patrol. Everyone else,  
return to your dens, please. Toadstep, Loyalheart, if you would—"

She beckoned them with her tail, and the three cats, with Fawnspots  
supporting Blackmask, headed for the medicine cat's den. Foxpaw tried to  
catch his leader's eye, but she stared straightforward with no disturbance  
to punctuate her concerned expression.

The cats broke apart, some nodding approval, others looking uncertain. In a  
disordered line the apprentices scuttled for their nests, Mighteye meowing  
over their heads, "Come on, the lot of you, bright and early tomorrow!  
Don't forget that tomorrow night is the Gathering!"

Foxpaw slumped into his nest beside Sunpaw, who fidgeted awkwardly and  
squeaked, "'Night," before curling up to sleep. To his immense surprise,  
however, Rosepaw padded over to join them, followed by a contemptuous-looking  
Nightpaw.

The two cats didn't glance at each other: in fact, the only one who spoke  
was Nightpaw, only to mutter, "Tomorrow's news, I suppose."

The apprentices nodded and called out sleepy meows before settling in. Only  
Foxpaw remained awake, Sunpaw and Rosepaw flanking him on either side. That  
dream was too real to not have happened. I didn't imagine it, he told  
himself. Rosepaw was there, and so was Tsunamistar. And Blackmask was back.  
What about Toadstep? And that prophecy? Questions he couldn't answer swarmed  
like angry bees in his head, until finally he only managed, Where was that  
starless place? before he fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
